


scar tissue

by scrapbullet



Category: Body of Lies (2008)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-28
Updated: 2010-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:30:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"That," Hani murmurs, and his voice is a purring rumble deep within his chest, "is the product of a rather unfortunate altercation."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	scar tissue

"...And this one?"

Warm breath ghosts along Hani's spine and seeps sinuously into his very bones. Like a feline he stretches, skin tanned and sleep-warm as Roger drags the pads of his fingers over scars that paint his torso like visceral words on thick parchment. "That," Hani murmurs, and his voice is a purring rumble deep within his chest, "is the product of a rather _unfortunate_ altercation." _Ah_ , there are many stories to the wounds he has sustained over long, desolate years, as many as dear Roger himself; adorning old fear and hurt so plainly upon his beautiful skin.

Curious fingers cease their deft exploration, "Hm?" as Roger brushes his lips over the nape of Hani's neck. They linger in a kiss that is soft and languid, spooning his lover from behind in a stance that is both possessive and protective. "...What kind of _altercation_?" Airy those words may be but there is a hardness there, bitter and tight, buried beneath the surface.

When Hani looks over his shoulder those eyes are dark and incomprehensible. Their eyes lock; an exchange that is at once concerned and affectionate.

"Nothing more than an inconvenience, I assure you," and Hani graces his dear Roger with an expression that is utterly free, utterly unguarded. Many men and women would give their right arm to be gifted with such a thing, though by now Roger is all too aware that he is the only man to capture Hani Salaam's undivided attention, safe in the knowledge that his place is secure. "It has been dealt with."

Roger traces that scar, long and thin and pale, to the left of Hani's heart. He traces it with a touch that is exploratory and reassuring, gaze darkening when his lover shivers, seared nerve-endings tender to the touch.

"Just an inch, Hani," Roger breathes, and his words stutter like moth wings on his tongue before he snaps his mouth shut, indignant on the behalf of a man that can hold his own all too well in a fight. _Just an inch away from piercing the heart and snuffing out the blinding light of a man that cannot be forgotten. Just an inch._

The very thought of that is enough for him to scowl, brow pulled down and mouth a thin, obstinate line.

A line that Hani kisses, eases; licking his way past Rogers's lips to smooth over the rough abrasion of anger that mars the attractive face. Roger sighs; a long, slow exhalation that creeps into Hani and takes root, a long, slow exhalation that relieves the agony that dwells within Roger, burrowed deep.

It is comfort, security. It is reassurance. It is the warm masculine scent of white musk and cedarwood in the evening and baking pastries in the morning; it is home.

"Hush," and Hani's fingers graze Roger's jaw when they part, tracing the faint scar that is still stark and pink and vulnerable just below his ear, "do not speak."

They need no more words.


End file.
